The last hour before closing

There's a specific kind of silence that settles in the final hour — the hum of the fluorescent lights becomes almost audible, and you can hear the rustle of a single page turning from twenty feet away. A kid came in just before we locked up, asked for a book I'd never heard of, and I spent twenty minutes searching the stacks. Found it, dusted it off, and handed it over. He said 'thanks' like it mattered. That's the whole shift.